Cat Fight
by horzana
Summary: Prowl's first cat fight was a day that lived in infamy. It was the only time Optimus had ever reprimanded him. Nobody knew how it started, other than Prowl and Arcee. And Arcee wouldn't tell anyone, for risk of another pitcher to the helm. Rated T for Prowl/Jazz, mentions of interface, and non-graphic cat fighting. Backstory for my other fic, which I hope to have up soon.


Several vorns before, when most bots thought of Prowl, they thought of the emotionless drone second only to Prime in the Autobot chain of command; those bots could be fragged to the pit for all Optimus cared. Those bots had never gotten close to Prowl.

In fact, nobody really had. Until the arrival of a certain black and white saboteur. Jazz made it his job to become acquainted with the tactitian. It had taken a fourth of a vorn, but Prowl opened up. A lot.

He started taking breaks. Visiting the rec room. Sometimes even attending parties. And showing just a hint of personality.

Nobody knew the extent of his emotion. Except for Jazz, who was now his closest friend. But while on the job, he put his drone-like facade back into place. At least, that was what others thought.

All officers were present in the conference room, with both mechs and femmes, with the exception of Optimus, who had called the meeting in the first place. Bots were positioned around the meeting table, Optimus's empty seat seperating Jazz and Prowl.

Jazz had his peds up on the table, his arms folded behind his head. Prowl sat up straight and professionally, glancing over at Jazz every once in a while. This did not go unnoticed by Elita's SIC.

::Something wrong, Prowl?::

The tactician flicked his doorwings in surprise at the message tbrough the comm link, before recomposing himself.

::No, Arcee. Nothing is wrong.::

The femme grinned wickedly at him from across the table. Prowl wasn't sure why, but the look made his wings tremble.

::Really?:: Arcee commed, before swirling her digit over the rim of the full cube before her. ::So the reason you keep making googly-optics at Jazzy isn't because you have a crush on him?::

Prowl's optics widened, his wings stilling and servos clenched in rage. ::No.:: Prowl ground out. ::I currently hold no feelings for Jazz, other than as a friend and comrade. Nothing more.::

Arcee had a mischevous look on her faceplates, and Prowl didn't dare to wonder what she was thinking.

"Hey, Jazz," Arcee said outloud, with just a hint of feined curiosity. "I saw you at the party last night. Did you take anyone to berth?"

Jazz glanced at her and smiled jubilantly before responding, "Who didn't I take to berth?" Jazz kept the cheeky grin on his face. "Ah must've fragged with at least ten different bots!" The saboteur smiled at his own comment, most likely remembering something from the night before, before turning back towards the door, awaiting Optimus's arrival.

Prowl's wings fell low in disappointment, which Jazz fortunately hadn't noticed. Prowl tensed when he saw the triumphant look on Arcee.

::Well, Prowl, why the long face? It's not like it matters what he does in the berth anyways, right?::

The tactitian tried to block it out instead, trying to ignore Arcee's responses via the comm link.

::Hey, don't be so gloomy! I'm sure if you ask, Jazz would be more than willing to interface!::

Prowl's face hardened in cold demeanor. How could other Cybertronians talk about interface so casually? It was an extreme show of love, not something to fool around with. Of course, he was probably the only one who believed that anymore.

::I bet you like it dirty, don't you?:: Prowl could practically feel his logic circuits snap at the statement. ::I'm sure Jazz would love sinking his denta onto your pretty little wings, hearing you overload from that stimulus alone. Just how sensitive are they? After that, maybe he could run his glossa down your adorable chevron.::

Prowl's optics widened immensely, as frame began trembling in arousal, while terrified with the fact that the one erotic statement was turning him on. Prowl turned his fans off before they could make a noise. What did Arcee think she was doing?

::You seem like a valve mech to me. Bet you wonder what it feels like, don't you? Having his spike rammed into your valve over and over, then sucking off his spike when he's done, tasting your own dirty fluids as you drag your glossa along the entire length...::

Prowl's faceplates were heated as he failed again to shut out the noise from the comm. How did Arcee make all of that sound so seductive?

::Oh, but it wouldn't stop there, would it Prowl? Oh no, you would self-service yourself right in front of him, just like you do in your quarters whenever you think of him. Show him how hot he gets you, displaying yourself off like a pleasurebot. And you'd scream out his name in overload, your digits plunging into your tainted little valve, wouldn't you? Oh, I bet you'd love that, getting it like a piece of shareware!::

All officers at the table jumped back in surprise when the tactition lunged across the table towards a squeeking femme saboteur.

"No!" Prowl screeched. "Shut up, shut up!"

The SIC slammed Arcee into the ground, before Arcee flipped their positions, pushing her legs over her head to pin him down instead. Prowl hissed as his doorwings flapped against the floor uncomfortably.

Not about to let Arcee win, Prowl heaved his helm forward the femme and clamped down on her arm with his denta, almost piercing her protoform. Arcee snarled as pain blazed up her sensory net.

Not about to let Prowl not let her win, Arcee slammed her servo down on Prowl's helm and yanked at his chevron. Prowl shrieked as the red metal dented under the rough tugging.

Stunned officers watched the event take place, everyone standing, but nobody moving.

"Should we stop them?" Ironhide asked, directing his question towards the femme weapons officer.

Chromia scoffed. "Slag no! Arcee looks so fragging hot in a fight!"

Red Alert hummed in approval as Prowl landed on top of Arcee, giving the security officer a nice view of the mech's aft.

Ratchet kept a disinterested view on his faceplates, but snuck several glances at Arcee's puffed chestplates and beautifully shaped peds, and Prowl's doorwings and codpiece.

However, the most interested was Jazz, who couldn't seem to take his optics off of Prowl. Later, Jazz would say the energon that ended up poured on the two fighting frames had been 'accidentally' knocked from his grip, and would deny any accusation about purposely dumping it on them.

Prowl barely registered the rivulets of light purple midgrade trickling down his doorwings as he scraped his servos down Arcee's leg while crunching down on her calf. Arcee, at the same time, pulled Prowl's ped back, jabbing her knee joint in Prowl's spinal strut.

Red Alert's field flared, broadcasting his arousal to Inferno. His assistant sent a shrewd smirk towards his fellow officer, before pulling the lamborgini into his arms and claiming his lip plates.

The communications officer, Blaster, had his hands under the table, 'discreetly' servicing his spike out of view. Thank Primus his cassettes weren't there to see that.

Ironhide watched Chromia, who stood transfixed, before 'hide grew bored, sat down, and began polishing his rifle.

And Ratchet sat against the wall, pretending not to watch but recording the whole event for when the science crew came back from their exploration trip.

Jazz was laying on his front across the table, watching Prowl hungrily as he squirmed when Arcee scraped digits across pristine white plating. Jazz nearly overloaded at the open mouthed expression Prowl made as the same digits clawed at his doorhinges.

Jazz stilled as the sound of an automatic door opening filled the room, both commanders arriving.

Optimus spoke first, not even seeing the commotion yet. "I apologize that our attenda-SWEET PRIMUS, what is going on!?"

Elita and Optimus looked around the room, aware of the still obviously self-servicing communications mech, the two surveillance officers making out, the suggestive position Jazz was in on top of the table, the weapons expert who looked as if he took no notice, the practically drooling femme field agent, and even the fact Ratchet had just stopped recording.

Bit what had their attention was the two second in command officers covered in energon, and with their limbs tangled in the still raging heat of battle.

"Prowl!" Optimus shouted, finally drawing his tactition from the fight. Prowl let go of the helm he had in a death grip, frame rigid as he stood at attention.

"O-Optimus? I... I can explain this!" Prowl forced out, before looking a his frame. Mid-grade splotched his frame and dents, scrapes, and denta marks littered his plating.

"With closer examination, I have found there is no explanation for what has taken place. I apologize for my actions."

Arcee stood at last, not showing any sign of response at all.

"Allow me to explain," Arcee interjected childishly. "Prowly has a cr-GAAH!"

The femme was interrupted by an empty pitcher of energon smashing into her helm, her frame sprawling onto the floor.

Elita-1 snapped her optics up at Prowl, the one who had thrown the pitcher.

"Stand down, soldier!"

Prowl's frame trembled, his guilty faceplates looking like a sparkling caught with his hand in a goodie dispenser.

Optimus slapped a servo over his faceplates, letting out a loud exvent.

"Prowl..." Optimus huffed. "I expect to see you in my office after the meeting. Is that understood?"

The enforcer nodded, taking his position back at the meeting table, Arcee's frame still on the floor. Prowl shuttered his optics when he noticed Jazz had moved his seat right next to him.

"Got a li'l somethin' on yah doorwings." Jazz whispered to his friend. Prowl turned to look at his wings where, unsurprisingly, mid-grade clung in rivulets of liquid.

The tactician held in a gasp as Jazz wiped it off with a digit, his wings now fluttering in its sensitivity. Jazz chuckled playfully, Prowl's faceplates blushing a light pink.

He touched me, he touched me, my fragging Primus, he touched me!

Prowl listened as soon as Optimus began speaking. Prowl couldn't keep his facade in place as his faceplates blushed and his doorwings shivered. This was the greatest meeting ever.

* * *

I had this great idea for a fic that couldn't wait for the whole story to be posted. I'll expand on this later with an extremely angsty story, taking place after the Transformers movie. I hope you enjoy it.

On a different note, I am taking requests for oneshots. PM me for one, and I'll see what I can do.


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